


Stargazing

by MisMiz (Jaaaaack51)



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-13
Updated: 2001-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaaaaack51/pseuds/MisMiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Squall gets his groove back. Or at least gets a good night's sleep anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazing

Squall listened to the slow steady breathing of the others around him and shifted restlessly on the hard, narrow bed, stifling an exasperated sigh. Weren’t any of the others bothered by the memories this place had awoken? This orphanage where they had all been children together for a time? He’d been stupid to let Selfie and Zell’s wide eyed enthusiasm sway him into agreeing to spend the night here within the orphanage walls, in their old beds no less. Beds that were too small, too narrow, for them now. In more ways than one. 

Childhood had never been a comfortable fit for the grey eyed, solemn young Squall and he didn’t seem to be doing much better as an adult. He wasn’t ok then. He wasn’t ok now. What the hell was he then?

He was temporary acting commander of Balamb Garden, that’s what. He was responsible for everyone. Dammit. He’d never wanted that. Didn’t want that. But what choice did he have?

None. He had no choice. So he might as well quit thinking about it and try to get some sleep. Like Zell. Squall glanced over at the bed on his right. Zell lay sprawled on his back, snoring softly. One arm dangled off the edge of the bed, while the other lay curled protectively at his side, around a small companion that was no longer there, except in memory. Zell’s stuffed Moogle. What had its name been? Squall frowned, trying to remember. Mogsy? Mugsy? Something like that. Anyway, the Moogle had always seemed to calm Zell down, when nothing else would. Zell had always been crying and screaming about something. That had just been his way. Still was. It was when Zell got quiet that you knew something was really wrong.

Quistis lay in the bed across from Zell. Her long blonde hair dangled off the edge of her pillow. Its soft shimmer was at odds with the hard tense lines of face and body. Serious even in sleep. That was Quistis. When they were children, she’d always been the one that had broken up the fights between him and Seifer, the one that had tried to calm a screaming Zell, the one that had tried to make certain Selfie didn’t jump off the roof in an attempt to fly. But she’d been just a child herself and most of her attempts to help had met with a marked lack of success. That frustrated need to help had made her difficult to deal with at times. Still did.

Remembering some of the fights he and Seifer had gotten into over the years, Squall’s lips curled up in a tiny smile. Quistis might be difficult, but she wasn’t lacking in courage. As children, he and Seifer had battled with sticks, fists, whatever was available. And they had never taken kindly to someone interfering. His smile disappeared as he glanced involuntarily towards the bed on his left. Seifer’s bed. Squall quickly averted his gaze from the empty bed. Seifer was always Seifer. Would always be Seifer. It explained everything and nothing. 

Then there was Rinoa. Or rather, there wasn’t Rinoa. She had gone back to the Garden to sleep since she “wasn’t one of them and didn’t want to intrude”. He rather thought she’d been hoping someone would contradict her, but no one had. She was right. She wasn’t one of them. Not in this matter. He felt a vague sense of guilt about that. He usually did where she was concerned. 

Selfie was sleeping, too. Her bed was across from Seifer’s. Squall could see her curled up under the blankets, like a small, happy kitten. She made Squall feel tired just looking at her. So much energy. He could feel it emanating from her, almost like a spell of some kind. She was probably dreaming about ways to rope him and Zell into being on some Garden committee or other. She’d already snared Kinneas... 

Kinneas.... Squall frowned. He didn’t remember the lanky Galbadian sharpshooter. He felt like he should apologize for that. But what could he say? Sorry, I don’t remember you? I remember everyone else, but not you? Squall might be socially inept, but even he knew how insulting that sounded. He raised up slightly and glanced over towards the bed on the other side of Zell’s. No doubt Irvine was sleeping as soundly as the others. It was just Squall who seemed doomed to lay awake and stare...

... at the very awake Galbadian sharpshooter who was propped up on one elbow, staring directly back at him across Zell’s sleeping figure. The fingers of one slender hand picked idly at a loose thread on the blanket as he continued to stare. The dim light made it difficult to see nuances of expression, but Squall thought Irvine looked like a man with something on his mind. Shit. Whatever it was, Squall didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to know about it. But as acting commander, was that part of his duties? He wished there was a manual or a handbook or something that spelled these things out in black and white. Or didn’t anyone else need that? Was it just him that found command and duty and other people so confusing?

“You uh… can’t sleep, either?” Squall felt himself flush as he stumbled awkwardly over the whispered words. 

Irvine shrugged in response and continued to stare at Squall. 

“Are you injured?” They’d had a run in with a few monsters in the area before reaching the orphanage. 

Irvine shook his head silently. No. Not injured. Ok then. 

“Sick?”

Irvine appeared to consider that for a moment before again shaking his head, no.

Not sick, either. Ok. Squall rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

“Is there something wrong? Anything you want to… to… talk about?” No. No. Please no.

Irvine nodded his head. Yes.

Ok then. Squall slid silently out of bed. The night was cool, but not cold. At least he wouldn’t have to freeze during the course of fulfilling his duties. Whatever the hell they were.

Irvine followed him out of the sleeping quarters, so quietly Squall would never have known he was there if it weren’t for the faint prickle between his shoulder blades. The one that told him he was being watched. That Irvine was still staring at him, dammit.

Squall hesitated at the doorway leading into the next room. He wasn’t certain what was on the Galbadian’s mind. Perhaps it might be better to go outside, so that there was less chance the others might wake and overhear whatever it was that Irvine wanted to say.

Yes. Outside. He’d always liked looking at the stars, anyway. He could appreciate their supreme indifference to everything below. Even if he’d never totally managed to emulate it.

The night air was crisp and cool and lightly scented with a faint fragrance that he couldn’t identify. Squall took a deep breath, some of the tension easing from his body, his headache receding. Now if he could just get this thing with Irvine over with, he could go back to bed and maybe get some sleep.

Squall turned and found himself nose to nose with his companion. Well, not quite nose to nose, since the sharpshooter was a few inches taller. More like nose to lips. 

“Gaaaahhhh….” Squall jerked back in surprise and would’ve fallen if Irvine hadn’t caught him. He could feel his headache returning. He pulled his arm out of the sharpshooter’s grasp and stepped back, frowning.

“Well…?” Squall finally demanded when Irvine didn’t say anything. Just continued to stare at him. That had to stop. Had to.

“Well, what?” Irvine’s lazy drawl sounded only mildly curious.

“What do you mean “well what”? Well what did you want to talk to me about is what!” Squall folded his arms and tried to look authoritative. 

“Oh. That.”

“Yes. That.” 

“Figured I’d let you go first.”

“I don’t want to go first.”

“But you’re the leader. Don’t you have to set us a good example?”

“I meant that I don’t have anything I want to talk about.” Squall snapped, all too aware of the teasing grin lurking at the edges of the sharpshooter’s mouth. Fine. That was what he got for trying to do his duty as he saw it. No doubt he deserved to be laughed at. But couldn’t Irvine at least do it some time when it wasn’t the middle of the night? 

“Really? No worries? No concerns? No anything? Must be nice.”

“Kinneas.” Squall sighed and rubbed his forehead. It had become a habit lately. “Is there any reason for me to be standing out here in the dead of night aside from the entertainment value of it?”

“You don’t remember me, do you? From when we were kids here?”

The abrupt change of subject caught Squall off guard, and he glanced away for a moment. “No.” 

“We didn’t have much to do with each other, really. Especially not after Sis went away. You were always off by yourself then. And when you weren’t doing that, you were fighting with Seifer.”

Squall nodded slowly. Yes. Fighting with Seifer had filled some of the empty places inside him. But never enough. And never for long.

“I was usually busy getting roped into some scheme of Selfie’s.”

Squall’s lips twisted in a wry grin. Some things never changed.

“But sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d come out here and look at the stars.”

“I did that, too.” He had no accompanying flash of memory, just the certainty that he had done it.

“Yeah. We used to sit out here together sometimes. Mostly you didn’t talk. But every once in a while…” Irvine trailed off.

“I wish I could remember us doing that. It sounds… nice.” 

“Yeah. Well, you might not remember the past, but there’s always the present.”

“…..”

Irvine walked over to the bench in the far corner of the courtyard and sat down in one smooth, fluid motion. Squall admired that particular type of easy elegance. Seifer had it, too. 

“Come on over. View’s nice.” Irvine tilted his head back to look up at the night sky.

Squall hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. Why not? He walked over to sit on the edge of the bench before gazing solemnly up at the stars with the sharpshooter. He wasn’t certain how long they sat there like that before he felt Irvine shift slightly on the bench beside him. Warm breath stirred the hair on the back of his neck and he shivered slightly. Then warm hands began to gently knead his shoulders. Hyne, but that felt good.

It felt so good, that Squall didn’t object when Irvine slid warm hands underneath his white t-shirt to touch bare skin. Didn’t object when those hands slid below his waist to touch him there. He arched his back as Irvine continued to touch him, clutching the long legs stretched out on either side of him along the bench, silently urging their owner to more.

It felt so good that for a time Squall was able to forget all about command and duty and responsibility and Seifer and the sorceress and Rinoa and everything else that went along with those things. 

Straightening his clothes afterwards, Squall glanced a bit self-consciously in Irvine’s direction. He didn’t quite know what to say. The sharpshooter wasn’t looking at him, though. He was gazing up at the night sky with an expression that made Squall decide not to say anything at all. Silently, they made their way back to the house.

Squall felt his eyes grow heavy almost as soon as he slid back into bed. He didn’t think he’d have any more trouble sleeping. At least not for tonight. He turned his head to look over at Irvine’s bed. The sharpshooter was sound asleep already, his breathing slow and even. Well, at least Squall would be in good company. He closed his eyes, just the faintest hint of a smile on his face as he too fell fast asleep.

The End


End file.
